


I Never Liked Balls Anyway

by Thaliel (Alodia)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 12:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3811006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alodia/pseuds/Thaliel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian and the Inquisitor get just a little sidetracked at the Winter Palace, much to both of their delight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Never Liked Balls Anyway

Dorian was tired of the winter palace, everyone there was angry and wanted to kill him for one reason or another. It was just like home, and yet so unlike it.

The food was brilliant but lacked a certain kind of spice. The music was too slow to really dance to. And above all, he had the arm of the Inquisitor. Or the Inquisitor had his arm. Either or.

It was strange to have that barrier. Instead of saying nasty comments to his face, they whispered them behind their hands for fear of the Inquisition’s wrath. He was offered only the finest wines from the serving elves, and everyone watched him closely.

At one point he even caught the elven spy watching him from the balconies, her eyes shrewd and assessing behind her mask. Dorian smiled brightly at her.

At least the Inquisitor came and spoke to him frequently in between their escapades in the various wings of the blasted place. Darien was a bright spot among the nobles, his smiles genuine and snark matching up with his own. Dorian could joke with him about drinking and know his faith would not waver. Dorian could say anything and Darien would just continue to smile and laugh at his antics.

It was perhaps what he liked best about the other man. He took Dorian as he was, and found him to be as genuinely delightful as Dorian always claimed to be, but never really believed. It was an immense revelation for the Tevinter, especially after a lifetime of pretending everything was just fine and there was nothing wrong with anything anywhere.

No, Dorian was not in love with his most recent lover. No he absolutely would not be crushed when their relationship ran it’s course. There was absolutely nothing wrong with Dorian’s family life and everything was just peaches in the Pavus household.

Darien, he cared if Dorian was upset. He wanted to make it better and help the man overcome his past and move into the future. To build something together.

“I’ll be here, by the wine,” Dorian said, smiling.

Darien leaned into him and kissed the mole just beneath his eye, “Right.”

Dorian sighed dramatically, “You do the nicest things.”

“All I did was kiss you,” Darien said, an eyebrow raised.

“Exactly. It was exceptional.”

The elven man laughed and leaned in to give him a proper kiss this time, dead center on the lips and with a stroke of tongue. The women just behind Dorian tittered and waved their hands, and Dorian had the strangest thought that he was grateful they didn’t have fans like in Tevinter. Nobles tended to hit people when they had fans.

Darien leaned back and put his weight back from his toes, landing with a small bounce. It was utterly charming the way his hair bobbed when he moved, the swish of it’s lengths as he shook his head at the just slightly taller Tevinter.

“You are going to get me in trouble,” Darien said.

“Me?” Dorian threw a hand over his heart while the other laid gently against his forehead as if he was faint, “Certainly not messare.”

Darien laughed, louder than before, and then swore lightly. He grabbed Dorian’s arm and lead him through the halls, up a set of stairs and then into the royal library.

Dorian laughed, “Just where are we going, may I ask.”

“To be alone,” Darien replied, voice short and at least an octave deeper.

He pulled Dorian through the door and closed it firmly behind him. They both just looked at one another for a moment, before hands were meeting faces and clawing at freshly shined buttons. Dorian moaned into Darien’s mouth, the other man’s tongue flicking against his briefly before he pulled away and mouthed at the column of his neck.

Dorian pulled roughly at the dress uniform until it gave the Inquisitor what he wanted, the smooth expanse of Dorian’s neck, flushed red with desire. He bit down hard and lapped away at the wound, soothing the sting before planting teasing kisses all down one shoulder.

Dorian moaned, he couldn’t help it. It was all too explicit, too raunchy. The blessed and sacred Inquisitor, ravishing him in the very seat of Orlesian power and prestige. They may have been in a library, but he had no doubt that word would spread of their absence, and everyone would know what they had been doing.

Especially when Darien was leaving a large love bit on his neck.

Dorian carded his hands through Darien’s hair, admiring the contrast between the pale strands and his own dark skin, and when the elven man was finally done working at his neck he pulled at the back of his head and kiss him hard.

Dorian worked at the Inquisitor’s own uniform, hands working down his front quickly and then hauled him closer.

Darien sighed and maneuvered them so they were stumbling towards the table, hands pushing and pulling to keep one another upright and lips connected nearly the whole time. Dorian felt his thighs hit the edge of the table just as Darien’s hands spanned his hips and turned him.

He took the cue and bent over the table, his hips jutting back into Darien and grinded against the hard length he found there. Darien groaned and leaned over Dorian, his hands pulling his hips back into his, slower this time, and leaving a trail of kisses down his neck.

Dorian could feel himself responding quickly to the stimulation, his own cock growing hard in his much-too-tight formal pants and Darien ground against him.

“Dorian…” The other man sighed, his hands ghosting around and then down Dorian’s front.

Dorian registered the light play of his fingers across his abdomen just before Darien’s hand slipped beneath his trousers and gripped him lightly.

The breath hissed from between his teeth and his hips bucked involuntarily. The world around him felt blurred out and all he could concentrate on was the play of his hand across his length, a thumb swiping over the tip lightly.

Dorian let his head fall forward and his hands reached out to the other side of the table, his body aching to be grounded, to have something real to hold onto as he threatened to drift away.

The lowering of his trousers barely registered and suddenly he could feel Darien’s length pushing against him, the silk of their half removed clothing adding a new sensation from what they were familiar with.

Dorian swayed his hips eagerly and Darien smiled down at his lover before pressing inward slowly, allowing the mage time to adjust and expand before he hilted himself and stayed there for a moment.

He did this every time, pushing in then waiting for a signal from Dorian to continue. This time, as with many others, it came when Dorian groaned and rocked his hips.

“More…” He sighed, his hands gripping the table again with new purpose and his face buried in the crook of his arm as much as it could be.

Darien moved then, bent lover over Dorian’s form as his hips began to rock in and out, nails biting into his sides and holding him steady as they moved.

Dorian allowed him to do the work for a moment, before he grew impatient.

They could be discovered, at any moment, someone on the other side of the balcony rail could wonder what that noise was, or the Empress herself could walk in hoping to grab a book to loan to a potential friend. Or enemy, as it so happened.

It thrilled him to the bone, spurring him on with a need which rocketed through them and became just barely uncontained. Lightning grew at Dorian’s fingertips and he could have sworn that between pants he could hear Darien saying prayers to the Creators as his own fingertips grew warm with fire magic.

Their harsh breathing and panting came to a crescendo with the movement of their hips, Dorian pushing back into each of Darien’s thrusts, timing it perfectly so their skin slapped roughly together and Dorian could feel the rocking of their motions in each bone in his body.

“Darien,” he called, “Please.”

Darien laughed, “Always so eloquent at times like this.”

Dorian growled and purposefully tightened his muscles.

“Oh, Creators,” he gasped.

Soon after, their hips started stuttering and each found their end, Darien into Dorian and Dorian onto an unlucky swath of Orlesian wood.

Darien fell further into Dorian, his torso pressed to the other man’s back.

“Worth it,” Dorian said, smiling blissfully. 


End file.
